Irontown 1: Student Maids Page 11

  ‘In here you will learn how to become as one with machines. In this room your nipples, vaginas and rectums will be put to uses chosen not by nature but by men to serve their greater purpose. Flesh always yields to iron and you will mould your bodies and minds to the requirements of the machines. Serve them well and you will be rewarded, be negligent and you will be punished. That is the natural order in Shackleswell. You will be rotated about the training machines until you are thoroughly familiar with every one and have learned the basic principles of serving as Rowland always intended gynatons should. While you are in this room I do not want to hear a word spoken. The only sounds you are permitted to make, whether of pleasure or pain, must harmonise with the devices you are serving.’

  One by one he took them off their collar chains, secured them to their mechanical masters, and explained their functions. In a few minutes the room was filled with the whir of gears, the hiss of water and air through pipes, the clink of chain and the muted gasps and sighs of girls in pain and pleasure.

  Mel stood facing a disk-like metal panel rather like a huge clock face as high as she could stretch. Her ankles were chained to its baseplate and her wrists to the ends of a pair of pointers like clock hands. Electric bush contacts under the hands passed over a ring of silver contact studs on the face of the disk, completing a circuit. Silver chains trailing from the hands were clipped to her nipple rings. A rod extended out from the central axel of the machine about which the pointers pivoted. Mounted at a right angle on the end of this rod was a steel phallus, on which she was impaled.

  The outer rim of the disk was studded with lamp lenses that lit up in a random sequence of pairs, one on each half of the clock face. If Mel moved the pointer tips round to match with the lamps quickly enough gears within the machine purred, transmitting its vibration through the central rod to the steel phallus. If she did not she got a shock through her nipples. Despite the occasional pain her thighs were soon slick with her juices tease out of her by the hum of a well-tended machine.

  As Master Vice had promised, all their orifices were being used to the maximum.

  To one side of Mel, Bolt was impaled on a different training device. She stood with hands cuffed behind her and ankles loosely chained astride a vertical lever on a universal mount. Its tip was double pronged and capped by rubber balls, which were lodged up her anus and vagina. As she twisted about the lever moved back and forth, left and right. These movements were conveyed by pivoting rods running under the base of the device to a sprung metal pointer on a hinged mount that hovered over a large horizontal drum turning slowly before her. The surface of the drum was studded with metal balls, blocks and strips, forming a kind of maze. By working the lever Bolt could steer the pointer between the obstacles. It was almost like a crude mechanical predecessor of a video game, a challenge that seemed to appeal to her, despite the penalty for touching one of the obstacles with the pointer. This triggered one of a pair of spring mounted, solenoid activated canes positioned behind her to come swishing down across her buttocks.

  Cam, her arms cuffed behind her, was straddling a long length of polished “I” beam raised on trestle legs. This served as a track for a couple of small chassis to run along whose wheels were spring-clamped to the sides and lower flange of the rail. One was wedged between her thighs and supported a vertical anal plug on which she was impaled. In front of that was a sprung arm that carried a larger ribbed rubber wheel with pronged side flanges that ran along the top of the rail. As Cam moved the long soft prongs, pressed inwards by a pair of angled plates, ran through the cleft of her vulva.

  The second chassis carried a tray with splayed sides, like the load bucket of a miniature dumper truck. This ran along the track just in front of Cam and was connected to her by a pair of light rods clipped to her nipple rings. At one end of the track was a hopper mounted above the rail filled with large ball bearings. At the other end below the rail was the mouth of a narrow funnel that fed into a storage bin.

  Cam pushed the truck under the hopper where it threw a switch to dispense a load of bearings. Then she shuffled backwards, pulling the laden car by her nipples, which drew them out into painful brown cones. As she did so the pronged rubber wheel teased her slot. When she reached the far end she had to position the truck over the mouth of the bin and then twist round, tugging on the nipple rods and distending her breasts, until the bucket of bearings tipped sideways and dumped its contents into the funnel of the bin. Covered by the rattle and rush of the balls she groaned from the pain of her twisted breasts. Then she righted the bucket and went back for another load. After half a dozen trips the rubber wheel turning in her cleft was shiny and the track glistened with her juices.

  Bobbin and Pin, with arms cuffed behind their backs, sat astride the ends of what looked at first glance to be a children’s seesaw that both pivoted up and down and rotated about its central mount. However the seats were simply padded hoops, leaving their genitals and bottom clefts bulging through them. Their ankles were linked to the beams of the seesaw by slack chains, allowing them to propel themselves round.

  Arrayed in a ring under them were a hundred or more red and blue metal cones, like third-size traffic cones, set out in random stacks on a series of alternating red or blue spots. Their task was to sort the cones into matching colours and set them on the appropriate colour spots. Of course with their hands cuffed they could only move the cones about by impaling their rounded tops in their anus or vagina, gripping and lifting. Their task was made harder by their nipples being linked together by long light chains that passed through a freely rotating ring set on the central axis of the seesaw. If they did not coordinate their actions and bend or turn together they gave each other painful jerks that made their breasts jiggle.

  The reward for their efforts came as more of the cones were stacked on their rightful colour spots. Their weight activated pressure plates that via hydraulic links caused slender arms to extend out from the ends of the seesaw beams across the seat hoops. The tips of the rods carried vibrating tips that buzzed as they swung the seesaw round and wiggled as they rocked up and down. The more cones they stacked the deeper the vibrating rods probed their clitorises. The floor under them became marked with a ring of drips. However the stimulation also caused their vaginas and even their anuses to become more slippery and they had to work harder to grip the cones. It became a race to finish before they became incapable of functioning and the strain showed on their faces.

  Axle was working a pump, but naturally it was without using her hands, which were cuffed behind her back. She was squatting over the end of a horizontal lever secured within her by an anal plug and clips to her labial rings. The lever was coupled to a man-high iron pillar in front of her. On the top of the pillar was a water-cooler bottle filled with red-tinted water. A tube from the bottom of this bottle ran down to a plastic bucket with a clamp on the end that reduced the flow of water to a steady trickle. The bucket was supported clear of the floor by a pair of light chains that ran over pulley wheels set in the sides of the pillar and then along to a hook onto Axle’s nipple rings. The tension of the empty bucket alone drew them out into sharp points.

  She could not bend forward to ease the strain on her nipple chains by resting the bucket on the ground because of an adjustable hinged rod extending from the pillar. This was clipped to the front ring of her collar and held her at a constant distance from the device.

  The end of the pump extractor tube sat in the bottom of the bucket where it sucked the water out as long as Axle worked the pump lever, keeping the water level to a minimum. However the discharge tube ran up to the top of the pillar and fed back into the top of the water cooler bottle where the cycle began once again.

  There was one reward for Axle’s labours. A hinged sprung rod rose up at an angle from the base of the pillar and passed through a slot in the lever arm beneath Axle’s chocolate-lipped cleft that was held open wide by the clips hooked to her labial rings. Mounted on the end of the rod was a dildo. A
xle penetrated herself with every pump stroke.

  After fifteen minutes on the machine Mel saw Axle orgasm, trembling and gasping and rolling up her eyes. She sagged limply on the lever arm for some moments until the trickle of water into the bucket drew her nipples and breasts out into dusky cones and she had to begin pumping once more.

  Amid the naked, sweating, straining, thrusting bodies glistened in the light, Master Vice strode up and down, nodding in approval or flicking his cane across a tremulous breast or shivering buttock that needed encouragement. Gradually the smell of machine oil was diluted by the tang of spilt female juices.

  When they were done, cloths on rubber plugs were pushed into their mouths and pussies and they were set to wiping and polishing up all the sweat drips and vaginal dribbles they had made until the devices gleamed once more.

  The lesson had been driven home: it was a duty, pleasure and privilege to merge with a machine, but they would always be its servants.

  Whereas in MI they had been treated as machine part, in Obedience, their last class of the day, they were treated virtually as dumb animals. It was held out on the playground under the command of Master Router.

  ‘You are no use to Shackleswell if you cannot be relied upon to perform your assigned functions without hesitation,’ he told them. ‘Where would we be if a machine took time to decide whether to respond to the turn of a key or the press of a button? Therefore you must learn to obey immediately and without question any lawful command given to you. An unlawful command is one such as: “Flap your arms and fly like a bird,” which is impossible, or: “Step off the side of a tall building,” which is self-destructive. Those orders would never be given. But any command that is merely unpleasant, embarrassing or uncomfortable is lawful and must be obeyed without question, such as: “Put your right index finger up the bottom hole of the girl standing on your left.” Do it!’

  They jerked into dazed action. Mel twisted round and pushed her finger into Bolt’s bottom even as she felt Cam’s finger pushing through her anal sphincter. A few days ago it would have clamped up tight against such a sudden intrusion, but after the usage of the day it relaxed and let her in.

  Axle was left without any girl on the left to put her finger up.

  ‘Cam 031 is unoccupied,’ Router said.

  Tugging the others with her, Axle shuffled round and pushed her finger up Cam’s rear. Now they stood in a naked ring in a school playground forming a daisy chain of hands thrust up bottom cracks. Mel could feel Bolt trembling with suppressed anger, squeezing with her anus as if trying to push Mel’s finger out, even as the intimate heat of her body soaked into her.

  Router walked round looking them over. Mel blushed as if she had been caught doing something childishly naughty.

  ‘Keeping your fingers where they are, go to the bottom of the playground and come back,’ he commanded.

  Awkwardly, weaving and twirling round as they went, they shuffled down to the bottom of the playground and then back up again. They must look so weird, Mel thought.

  ‘Has anybody anything to say about what you have just done?’ he asked.

  Mel prayed that Bolt would not say something stupid but wisely they all kept silent.

  ‘Good, because your opinion is irrelevant. Why a command is given and for what purpose is none of your concern. All that matters is that your master desires you to do something and you obey. Never forget that. Now, a basic skill of obedience lies in fetching and carrying…’

  He commanded them to remove their fingers and then set them chasing thrown balls and bringing them back in their mouths like dogs, kneeling at Router’s feet and dropping them into his hand. Then he had them carrying objects like wooden ten-pins with long necks with rounded caps. They did not use their hands but squatted and grasped them with their vaginal mouths, carrying them swinging between their thighs in an undignified duck-like waddle. Around and around the playground they went, alternating between their groups, passing the warm wet pins from vagina to vagina.

  ‘Continue until I tell you to stop,’ Router said.

  It was not physically hard compared to what they had already been put through that day, though their well-used passages did ache after a while. It was mildly stimulating but not likely to lead to orgasm. It was an exercise in boring repetition and mindless compliance.

  ‘Don’t think, just react,’ Router advised. ‘Lose your mind in the joy of reflex obedience.’

  This attitude did not appeal to Bolt and she earned them all a few more cane stripes for being sullen and slow to respond. Mel and Cam plodded doggedly onward until the last bell sounded, signalling the end of lessons for the day.

  Chapter Eight

  They were sent to the washroom to join the rest of the school. The ceiling chains were not used and there was no sense of urgency. Master Puncheon, sitting in the monitor’s chair, was reading a book. Mel spent a long time under the shower trying to wash away not only dirt and sweat but also the memory of all the usage she had endured. She was sore, aching and drained both physically and emotionally, but at least she had survived her first day at Gryndstone.

  By the time Mel finished drying herself she felt a little better. The other girls were breaking up into chattering groups and filing out of the washroom in a casual fashion. Some were even laughing. They must have suffered the same way her trigyn had yet they appeared so normal. How could they just switch off like that? Perhaps that was the trick.

  Mel, Bolt and Cam hesitated, uncertain what was expected of them next. Then Mel saw Wire 142 leaving with her arms about a red-haired girl, stamped SPAR 075 and a brunet called BUSH 103. ‘Hallo, um what do we do now?’ she asked her.

  ‘Whatever you want until lights out at ten, except when we’re called in for tea,’ Wire said. ‘We’re going to the rec room. By the way, these are the other thirds of my trigyn…’

  ‘Hallo,’ said Spar and Bush with friendly smiles. They came forward to embrace Mel, Cam and Bolt. Mel and Cam hugged gingerly back but Bolt shied away.

  ‘I don’t care what they make us do to each other in lessons, I’m no lezzy!’ she said sharply.

  Mel felt embarrassed while Spar and Bush looked hurt. Wire said: ‘Sorry, it’s just the way we do things here. It’s all we’ve got to give each other. Well, maybe we’ll see you in the rec room. By the way, have you checked the phone home list yet?’

  ‘Oh, yes, thanks for reminding us,’ said Mel.

  They made their way along to the Hall notice board, feeling out of place as you did in any institution after regular hours and doubly so when naked. When they were out of earshot of Wire and her chain-sisters Mel said to Bolt: ‘Did you have to be so rude? They were only trying to be friendly.’

  ‘I’ve had enough fu…ing tits rubbed up against mine for one day!’ Bolt said angrily.

  ‘I think we’ve got the message,’ said Cam.

  The list said they were to report to Classroom 1.

  They found Bradawl seated at his desk. A few other girls were crouched or sprawled about the room on mats chewing on pens as they composed letters and cards or speaking quietly into phones. Mel, Cam and Bolt went up to Bradawl’s desk, remembering just in time to duck down into the open front and kiss his penis. Under his powerful gaze Mel and Cam stood before him meekly with their hands folded behind their backs while Bolt looked impassive.

  ‘Well, what did you think of your first day at Gryndstone?’ he asked.

  Did he expect them to lie? Mel took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully. ‘I think this is a cruel and perverted place, Headmaster.’

  Bolt growled: ‘This fu…ing collar won’t let me say what I think… Headmaster.’

  Cam just whimpered and clamped her lips shut.

  Unexpectedly Bradawl smiled. ‘You’re feeling angry and resentful. That’s perfectly normal. Don’t worry, it’ll pass.’ He handed them phones labelled with their part names. ‘These will record and playback voicemail only. You may file all your communications on them. You will reco
rd brief messages to whoever you think will be missing you, either family or close friends, telling them you are all right. You will explain you do not want to get into one to one conversations for obvious reasons and they should reply in the same way. After checking the content I’ll pass them on to our representative in London, who will send them via your phones that he’s monitoring. Their replies will be relayed back here in the same way. One exchange only tonight.’

  Bolt gave her phone back. ‘I’m not calling anybody and talking lies… Headmaster.’

  ‘Honesty,’ said Bradawl. ‘An admirable virtue if practiced wisely. Then you are excused…’

  Bolt left.

  Lying on a mat Mel felt a brief flush of resentment at the thought of unknown people playing around with her phone, then realised ruefully that it was nothing compared to what they had already done to her body. She debated trying to hide some sort of clever coded SOS in her message, but she had no idea how. Perhaps the most important thing at this moment was to assure them she was all right. To her parents she said:

  ‘This is just to let you know I’m OK. I’m so sorry for everything. Don’t blame Maddy because I started it. I’ll call again when I get myself sorted out. If you want to leave a message for me do it this way because I don’t want to get into any more arguments, not after everything that’s already been said. Maybe those things you called me were true but they still hurt! I still love you and hope you can forgive me but I think we all need some space and time apart right now.’

  It was not any easy message to send but the next one was harder, especially as she could not say all she wanted knowing Bradawl would hear it first.

  ‘Maddy, it’s me. Don’t worry I’m fine. I just had to get away because my being there only made things worse. Try not to feel too bad about the way Mum and Dad reacted. It just got out of hand. We all need some space to cool off. We’ll work this out somehow. Maybe we’d better not talk in real time right now so voicemail me back. I want to hear your voice. Evenings are good for me. Whatever happens you know I love you.’